The Cries Of God Are Human
by BakuhatsuSeigi
Summary: Dean doesn't speak.  There's nothing wrong with his vocal chords and he's not really mute.  But he just chooses to pretend that he is mute and never says a word to anyone. AU. Eventual Destiel.


The Cries Of God Are Human

Dean doesn't speak. There's nothing wrong with his vocal chords and he's not really mute. But he just chooses to pretend that he is mute and never says a word to anyone.

The only time he's spoken in his entire life was when he was four years old, around the time when his baby brother Sammy was about six months old. And much to his mom's delight, his first words had been a good night to Sammy before they put him to bed. The words had been garbled and came out sounding like bird chatter, but the meaning seemed clear enough.

But, later that same night, he lost both his mom and the home he had lived in for the first four years of his brief life in a fire.

Dean may as well have lost his dad too, because John wasn't the same after that night. He became a hunter and always talked about hunting down the thing that killed his wife while raising Dean and Sam to live a hunter's life.

And though Dean didn't completely understand what had happened, he had a strong feeling in his gut that it was his fault. That he shouldn't have spoken, because it had attracted something bad to his home and destroyed it.

So, after that night, Dean never spoke again.

That didn't mean he was reserved though. Dean was as outgoing as a mute person could be with a handy cell phone and the ability to type faster than even the most notorious texters. And before the invention of cell phones with screens that displayed text, Dean just used a pen and a pad of paper to communicate.

As far as Dean was concerned, he led a good life that was filled with flirting, sex, even if the sex was because the girls pitied him for being mute sometimes, and hunting monsters with his dad and Sammy. He even managed to somehow graduate from high school, though he never pursued a higher education.

He couldn't ask for a better life, even if his dad did come home drunk on a few occasions and got physical when he had messed up on a hunt. It was alright, because he could handle it. Dean was the big brother who had to set an example for his baby brother and make sure he didn't get hurt. So he could handle anything if he had to.

Dean thought he was pretty good at keeping an eye on Sammy.

The one time the runt had run away, Dean was nineteen and had caught hell for it from John. He doesn't exactly recall the night that John found out Sammy was missing. Just remembers pain and waking up on the motel floor, covered in bruises from head to toe. He also vaguely remembers that John had gone off again.

That was a week after Sammy ran away under his watch and it would be a week more before the munchkin finally came back. And even though Dean was angry, like seriously pissed off that Sammy had abandoned them like that, he kept his mouth shut and just quickly scribbled down a few curse words and death threats on some motel stationary for Sammy to read.

"I'm sorry," Sammy mumbled under his breath, looking down at the ground, ashamed, after he spied an old, yellow bruise peeking out over Dean's shirt collar.

Dean frowned at the look on his brother's face. But he huffed softly and messed up Sammy's hair, flashing a grin that meant everything was 'water under the bridge.'

Sammy smiled again after that and swatted Dean's hand away. It was an act that Dean appreciated, because it told him everything was alright again.

After Sam, who had shot up to Sasquatch size and managed to tower over Dean and John, left for Stanford, Dean was at a loss.

John had decided to leave the Impala in his care and take off to go hunting solo, a decision that Dean hated, but didn't argue because he thought the world of his dad and never liked to argue with him.

So Dean was left alone with only the weekly call from his dad to check in on him. He wouldn't admit it, but he felt kind of lonely during those times and probably spent even more time tracking down hunts and one night stands than usual just to fill up the emptiness he felt inside without his family. But he would never admit it. Not even to Sam.

Dean spent two years like that before he noticed that John had missed the day for his weekly check in by cell. He immediately knew something was wrong, but ended up waiting three days just in case it was a false alarm. After the three days were up, he was sure John was in danger and went straight to Sam for help in tracking down their wayward father.

But that was almost two years ago. And a lot had happened after they found John.

Their dad had gotten possessed by the Yellow Eyed Demon and Sam just didn't have it in him to kill John, even if Dean was slowly bleeding out on the ground because of the monster inside him.

And after that, they had gotten into an accident. The Impala was totaled in the collision with the semi and Sam was left in a coma, on the verge of death. Dean somehow managed to come out unscathed and hated himself for it, because it meant that he wasn't unable to protect his baby brother.

He hated seeing his brother, weak and so pale, lying on the hospital bed. But Dean hated it even more when John came to him and whispered into his ear. Words that he could never repeat and a good bye that he wasn't ready for.

John gave up the Colt that he had worked so hard to find and his soul to the Yellow Eyed Demon so that Sammy could live.

And now, almost a year after John's sacrifice, Dean's forced to watch Sam collapse to the ground, white as a sheet and unbelievably frail, again. But he's there to catch him this time and it's a small comfort, but it's something that eases Dean's agony, if only a little.

Bobby's gone on ahead, the old hunter carrying a shot gun and ready to defend himself from the dangers in this deserted town.

And Dean. Dean can feel the blood soaking his brother's clothes from the knife wounds another Special Child gave him and feel Sam's body grow steadily heavier as the life drains right out of him.

"Sammy," Dean whispers, barely breathes the name. He can't help it. He needs to speak to his brother, even if he's terrified that something worse than the bad thing that tore apart his childhood might come after him. He wants to say so much to Sam, but he doesn't have any time left.

"_Sammy_," he repeats his brother's name desperately as Sam looks up at him with weak shock and then a tired smile as the light of life finally leaves his baby brother's eyes.

Dean's screaming now. Screaming words that aren't from any human language and screeches sounds that are similar to a bird's as he clutches Sam's body tight to him. He screams out all his pain and sorrow and prayers that Sam would come back to him, safe and whole.

And in the moment after Sam's death, the most unexpected thing happens.

A bright, white hot light comes surging down from the sky and there's a slender man with rich, dark brown wings that look too big on him standing where the light came down. A scruffy, tired looking man with bright blue eyes and messy brown hair wearing shimmering silver battle armor that looks like it came right out of Greek Mythology.

The brightness of the silver brings out the color of the man's eyes, making them glow eerily as they settle on Dean still kneeling on the ground with his arms clutching tight to Sam.

_How did you summon me?_ the being asks in the same words and bird sounds Dean had shouted to the heavens not even a minute before. His posture is stiff and Dean can see that the being standing before him is a trained warrior.

Dean is suddenly silent, looking up at the mysterious being in a mixture of awe and ingrained wariness. His silence, however, seems to upset the creature and he watches as the feathery brown wings rise and puff up in what he assumes is a display of aggression.

_How is it that you are able to speak Enochian?_ the winged creature presses again and Dean's sure that he's being aggressive now, because his eyes are glowing and the air is thick with tension and electricity.

_I don't know,_ is Dean's reply, but he pulls Sam's body just a little bit closer to himself, wanting to protect it from the mysterious creature.

The creature's eyes move down and stare at the corpse in Dean's arm.

_That corpse is Sam Winchester. That must make you Dean, his brother, _he states bluntly, his eyes wide, as if from realization.

Dean glares at him, suspicion and pain flaring up in his glistening green eyes.

_What are you?_ Dean asks, his voice dropping an octave as he growls out the words. He watches as the creature frowns at the obvious lack of respect he is receiving and witnesses the shift in the man's emotions as they switch from annoyance to hesitation.

_I am Castiel, an Angel of the Lord,_ the creature replies after a long silence, surprise flashing across his face as Dean gently sets down Sam's body and walks up to him. The human grabs at Castiel's armor and the angel is honestly surprised that Dean's able to be this close to him, let alone touch him, without being burned by his grace.

_An angel? Then you can fix him. You can do that, right? You're an angel, so you can fix Sammy,_ Dean growls and desperation is dominating his voice and his body is tense with it too.

Castiel can see the physical pain that Dean is in at the loss of his brother, his last remaining family member. But he hesitates again. He's not sure if he is allowed to bring back the fallen human.

_Go ahead, Castiel,_ a new voice speaks up from behind the angel and Dean's surprised to see a blond standing there.

The new guy appears a few years younger than Dean, but he has six cream colored wings spread out behind him, so he knows this guy is an angel too. Probably more powerful than Castiel from the vibes he's giving off. And he's kind of creepy, smiling at Dean like he knows something that no one else knows.

_My name is Michael, an Archangel of the Lord and Leader of the Host of Heaven. It is a pleasure to meet you, Dean Winchester,_ the blond speaks up, his lips quirking up into an amused smirk.

Dean narrows his eyes on the new angel and unconsciously takes a step back, away from him. But his attention is drawn elsewhere when he sees Castiel making his way towards Sam's body.

The older of the Winchester brothers watches in awe and fear as more blindingly white light floods the darkness of the night. He next braces himself against the shockwave that spreads out from where Castiel and Sam's corpse are. But the effort is futile. He's blown back by the blast, but strong arms catch him and a smaller body holds him close, a body that holds too much power and is protecting him from the explosion with six massive wings.

Looking back on this event later, Dean will consider himself lucky compared to the trees and structures that were completely flattened in a wide circle all around them.


End file.
